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Chapter -5- Glass Soldier

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** Evan rubbed his eyes with his palms** and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He stepped out of the office and moved behind the counter.

Nathanial stepped into the doorway to watch from the office.

The mercenary at the front door forced his way through the thick glass, silenced pistol in hand. He pointed it towards the other end of the shop.

A red dot passed over Nathan's chest and stopped on Evan. "You the owner of this place, kid?"

"That's me. The safe is on a time-lock delay. You're early."

A downward shotgun blast turned the back door to a cobweb. The second mercenary kicked it three times until it came apart. He eased through the back door and lifted the pump-action weapon.

The first man in black gear, up at the front of the store, said, "We're not here for your money, kid. We're here because you didn't go to the meeting you were told to attend in your email last week."

"Hmm," Evan said, folding his arms. "Go to some random meeting that seemed like spam to me ... or attend game night, which I'd been looking forward to for quite some time. No thanks."

"It was mandatory, kid."

Evan shrugged. "Sorry, 2D20 beats random meetings."

The second attacker kept his shotgun pointed at Nathan and Evan. "Boy, you got one hella' set of balls on you, kid."

"I'm no stranger to bullies. I've been pushed around my whole life. I've always walked away from fights because they're beneath me. But you have guns and you're leaving me with no choice. So now we have to decide how to proceed: Diplomacy, departure or..."

Nathan sighed. "Kid, if you're going to spew heroic speeches, write a good one and rehearse it before hand. And remember to keep it short."

"Yeah, you should listen to the old man," said the man with the shotgun, in front of the back door.

"You guys suck as crooks."

The man grimaced. "We're here to kill you; we don't care about the chump change in your safe."

"If you were here to kill me, then why break in? Why not just shoot an RPG into my store without warning?"

The mercenary up at the front said, "Because we need to document your ability, first, to see why you managed to survive our attack from the other day."

Evan sighed in frustration. "Everyone survived. I don't like killing people. So if that's what this is about - some sort of trial - then tell me who you work for so I can talk to them personally. I'll fix this myself."

Nathan shook his head. "They're not here to judge your past, kid. They're here to judge your abilities, document them, and kill you."

"Shoot the old man," said the masked mercenary with the pistol. The second gunman turned his shotgun towards Nathanial.

Evan clenched his hand; the shotgun's barrel, handle, and trigger turned to glass. "Nobody is killing anyone, here."

"Evan," Nathan stepped from the doorway, calmly, and faced the young man. "They're a hunting party, kid. If you let them live, they will track down another person with abilities. Possibly one who hasn't even manifested yet. Then a defenseless person dies, all because you refused to take action."

The man with the glass shotgun swung his weapon at Nathanial's head. A bolt of lightning raced back from Nathan's body and electrocuted the attacker.

Nathan rubbed his palm against the side of his head. The wound faded away. "I thought glass was a bad conductor? Must've still had metal components at the core. Either that, or I'm stronger than I used to..." Nathan flinched at the sound of a gunshot. He brought his hands up to either side of his head, rubbing at his ears. "Son of a _bitch ** ** _that was loud!"

Evan flinched.

Nathanial replied with a wan grin. "Oh, right. Cuss words. Forgot about that. Sorry, kid." He glanced over at the other mercenary, whose forty-five was pointed in his direction. Nathan smiled. "Wow. Kid, did you just protect me from getting shot?"

"I, uh ... the bullet turned to glass when it passed through my ... whatever. Aura thing. Uhm ... didn't you feel it pelt you?"

Nathan grinned. "When you get this old, everything hurts. I just figured I pulled something from being startled by that noise."

The man with the gun shifted it towards Evan. He pulled the trigger again. Nothing happened. He tried once more to no avail.

The man threw his gun on the ground, reached for his sidearm. He looked down at the glass weapon and discarded that as well.

With no other weapons available, the mercenary reached into a netted pocket on his vest. He withdrew a grenade, pulled the pin and threw it towards the counter.

Evan waved his hand. The broken glass in the front door mended together.

With a grunt, the mercenary dove back towards the front door just as the broken glass repaired itself.

The mercenary slammed into the front door and slumped to the floor, motionless.

Evan picked up the grenade and waved his hand around it. Glass encased the pineapple-like device. The object lurched from his grip with a dull thud.

"Whoa." Nathanial approached Evan and leaned in close to look at the glass globe in the boy's grasp. "You made a bowling ball dense enough to resist the concussion of a grenade?"

"Ballistics resistant glass has layering techniques and thickness techniques that allow it to withstand..." Evan trailed off and bit his lip. "Geeze. Those guys actually tried to kill us. Like, really kill us." He put the surprisingly heavy glass ball on the counter.

Nathan tested it for weight with a grimace.

Dazed, the nearest mercenary got to his feet and reached for a combat knife.

Evan approached him, standing protectively in front of Nathan.

The mercenary drew his arm back and lunged. The knife turned to glass.

By the time the blade met Evan's skin, it transformed into a thin sandy powder, its base element. It ran down the front of Evan's shirt.

Evan closed his hand around the white powder and blew it in the man's face. "Silica. Your knife isn't going to..."

The man hauled off and punched Evan across his jaw.

Evan doubled over with a groan, left hand over his face. He reached back with his right hand to keep Nathan at bay. Evan stood up, slowly, only to take another hard strike, this time adjacent to his eye. He groaned softly, tears trickling down his cheeks. "Shazbot. That really hurt."

Nathan clenched his jaw. "Kid, stop playing around or let me finish him off," said Nathanial.

"No, no..." Evan shook his head slowly. "This is personal, now." He closed his gangly hands into two frail looking fists.

The mercenary smirked, lowering his own fists. "You scrawny little bitch. I'll even let you throw one jab before I kill you and your friend."

Evan narrowed his gaze, somewhat, unable to squint very well from the swelling of his right eye.

"Go on, you stupid nigger. Hit me."

Nathan cringed. "Are you serious? You really just said that?"

Evan tugged down on either side of his shirt. "Jerk." He drew his hand back and hit the attacker square in his mouth.

To Nathan's surprise, the mercenary doubled back and put both hands over his face. The man tripped over a glass display on the sales floor and flopped onto his side, eyes wide.

Nathanial leaned on the counter, adjacent to the register, and asked, "What did you just do?"

"I turned all his teeth to cheaply-made glass. Then I hit him." Evan raised the volume of his tone, and asked, "How'd that feel, Gumby? Bet'cha didn't know you've got a glass jaw against me, huh? For the record, I find racism trashy - it's beneath me. Also, you hit like a girl. You should have knocked me out with one punch. You couldn't do it in two."

Nathan started laughing. He put his left hand on Evan's shoulder and shook his head, "Nah, kid. Don't taunt the guy. Is this your first legitimate fight with a bully?"

"Yeah. It felt pretty good." Evan waved his hand. A wall of glass formed, followed by another, until the mercenary was caged in a box with slatted vents on the top. "I keep several tons of crushed quartz sand in the crawlspace under my store, pal. You're on my turf. And, just in case you think you're going to jump me somewhere far from sand, there's silica in a lot of things. From toothpaste, to Fiber Optical cables, to silicon components in electronics and..."

"Okay, okay." Nathan gave Evan's shoulder another firm pat. "Slow your roll, kiddo. I'm going to write you a list of things to do. If you wanna go 'hero' with this, fine, but you'll need a sidekick to watch your back. Make this list your manifesto and memorize it."

"Hero, huh? You really think I'm responsible enough to make the right decisions for that sort of thing?"

"I can think of no one better suited than you, Evan." The old man reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of folded paper. He held it up between two gnarled old fingers. "Don't lose this. I had the good sense to write this before I met you, knowing how this was most likely going to play out. Glad I did. Now, go study this kid. I've gotta get these two jokers out of your store. I have a few more errands to run today."

Evan opened the page and held it to the left, so he could read it with his good eye. "So, uhm ... how long before the swelling goes down?"

"Oh, yeah. You might have that for a week. Go to the grocery store at the top of the block, buy a bag of frozen peas, put a few in a small Ziploc baggie and hold that up to your eye for a little bit. Don't press too hard."

Evan glanced at the wedding band hanging from Nathan's neck. "Sounds like she gave you good advice when you were my age."

"Heh. I met her when I was twenty-eight." Nathan reached for the wedding band and held it between his thumb and forefinger. "One day, I'll have to tell you the story behind this ring."

"Yeah? I look forward to it." Evan reached up to cup his hand over his eye. He thought better on it and put his hand back down at his side. "A week huh? Guess I better get some frozen peas."

Nathanial grinned. "You'll be fine, kid. You'll live to get married."

"My maternal grandmother was fond of that saying."

"Yeah? Well, she's right. Trust me." Nathan turned and put his hand on the glass wall.

Evan watched as the old man's palm glowed against the glass panel.

Nathan glanced back and said, "Okay, melting this glass is going to take longer than I thought. Can you let this guy free?"

"Oh, okay. Cover your mouth. You don't want to inhale silica dust. It's really dangerous." Evan raised his voice, adding, "Same goes for you, in there. Hold your breath or cover your mouth." Evan waved his hand and the glass cage dropped to the floor in a cloud of white powder.

Nathan held his breath and touched the attacker before he could escape. The mercenary seized up and dropped into the old man's hands. With all the gear, it caused the old man to struggle with the mercenary's weight. "Dammit. I used to be able to carry punks like this on my shoulders. How about a little help? I've got a pickup truck with a cap on the back."

Evan grimaced. "Geeze, mister. Moving bodies in broad daylight? Let's hurry before someone sees us. Did I pass your test or whatever?"

"I gave you the paper, kid. Trust me, I know your potential. At the bottom is a phone number. Anytime you capture one of these morons, you call that number."

Evan glanced over the piece of paper in silence.

Nathan added, "The kid who answers the phone is named Johann Foster. He'll make sure the right person comes to pick up the bodies. All you need to tell him is that you've got unconscious mercenaries who tried to attack people with abilities. Johann will know what to do."

"Thanks. I appreciate the help. What was your name again?"

"Nice try," Nathan said. "You can call me Liam Neeson because I'm the toughest old guy you've ever seen." Carrington offered a sheepish grin.

"Liam Neeson, huh?"

Nathan nodded, pleased with his joke. "Like Qui-Gon Jinn, and Ra's al Ghul, you needed a tough, manly old badass to teach you how to be a rock star, kid."

Evan grinned at the Star Wars and Batman humor. The boyish-faced youth rubbed his chin for a moment, eyeing Nathanial. "You kinda' look like that guy, too."

"Yeah, yeah." Nathan walked over to the other mercenary, whose neck had broken during the collision with the front door. "I hear that every now-and-then. By the way, you did a good job with the other guy. Stopped him cold." Nathan tossed his truck keys to Evan and said, "Back the truck up to your rear door entrance."

Evan looked down at the keys in his hand. He headed for the front door and stepped over the motionless man. "Is he...?"

Nathanial quickly replied, "He's fine." The old man cleared his throat. "Just get the truck. It's across the street. Hurry up and bring it around back."

"Sure thing, Darkman." Evan offered a wan smile.

Nathan smirked in reply.

Evan stepped through the front door, keys in hand.

X

X

Celestial Realm...

"Hail Sigyn! Lady of Fidelity, Mindfulness, and Graciousness. Thank you for seeing me through these hard times. I seek to endure as you have endured. And when I fail, I seek to embody your fidelity, mindfulness and graciousness. Your example inspires me."

Sigyn stood in silence in the Hallway of Reflection. She listened to the reverent prayer of a worshipper. It touched her heart to hear such an impassioned plea for aid. It nearly brought tears to her eyes.

"Lady of Loki, beloved of the maligned god; my role model. Hail to you, lady of the staying power. I praise your endurance. Faithful, loyal Sigyn, this prayer is for my sister, Úlfey. Please help her to stay the course and endure without fail."

Sigyn remained silent. Her heart ached with pride, delighted with her worshipper's words.

The woman on the other side of the portal continued to speak. "The rumor is ... Úlfey's fiancée is possibly homosexual. Theirs is to be an arranged marriage, made by the parents shortly after Ulfey and Eric's birth."

Silence.

The mortal woman on the other side of the portal continued her request. "Úlfey and Eric were always friends, throughout their childhood. However, they have drifted apart in the last few weeks. Please help my sister to stay faithful to her future husband in this trying time of their relationship. For this, I will make an offering of..." The woman's voice lowered to a whisper.

Sigyn placed her hands on the frame of the portal, listening to the mortal's prayer. She leaned close, listening to the human woman's offering.

Sigyn's soft smile broadened.

Pleased by the offer she heard on the other side of the portal, Sigyn whispered in reply. "I will bless your sister, Tove Sigvorðrdóttir. But you know in your heart that your sister, Úlfey, is with the wrong man."

In the Earth realm, Tove sighed. She continued her monologue. "I confess, my goddess, that they are not right for one another." Tove's eyes lowered.

Sigyn whispered again. "Your sister will endure this arranged relationship. She will endure without her soulmate, in exchange for the ultimate honor of fidelity to her betrothed."

On the other side of the portal, Tove lit a candle. She stared at the flame with a sigh.

Sigyn remained silent.

"I wish there was a sign to know you heard my prayer." She kept her eyes on the seemingly motionless flame. The orange oval hovered on the tip of the wick like a perfect picture.

Sigyn smiled inwardly. She leaned towards the portal and gently blew at the candle on the other side.

The flame flickered and danced about, briefly, and then became calm once more.

Tove swallowed. She looked around the room to ensure that the windows were shut. She looked back at the flame. "If ... that was you, would you be so kind as to do that one more time?"

Sigyn blew again. Her breath caused the candle flame to flicker.

Tove backed away from the candle, slowly. "I ... am honored to have your ear, Lady Sigyn." Tove sat down on her bed. Her eyes misted up with emotion. She faced the glowing purple candle, staring at it in silence. "I only wish Úlfey and her future husband could somehow find happiness despite his difference in preference."

Sigyn sighed. "I know, Tove, daughter of Sigvard, that you _cannot_hear my words. But may the meaning behind my words reach your heart in Iceland." Sigyn drew in a deep breath, tracing her fingertips along the portal. "I will help your sister to endure her fidelity for the sake of her honor."

Sigyn's touch caused a ripple in the fabric of space-time, as if she were tracing her finger across the surface of a pond. The fluttering was only visible on Sigyn's side of the portal.

Tove sat back on her bed in her small bedroom. The Icelandic woman sighed. She felt as though a weight was lifted from her shoulders.

Sigyn blew Tove an unseen kiss through the portal. "Your devotion to Úlfey is admirable."

Tove Sigvorðrdóttir, unaware that the goddess heard her every word, rolled over on her bed and closed her eyes. "Thakka thér fyrir."

Sigyn watched as the woman fell asleep. "Ekkert ath thakka." She brushed her forehead against the portal, unable to pass through it. "I will watch over your sister. Sleep well, Tove, daughter of Sigvard. Know in your heart that your prayer for your sister has been heard."

Sigyn turned from the window and paused.

A small white fox with nine tails looked up at Sigyn from the golden-hued floor tiles.

Sigyn lowered to one knee and ran her fingertips through the small kitsune vixen's fur, behind the fox's ears. "Mizukume Tamamo-no-Mae, it has been a while since I've seen you. How are you?"

"I am well, Sigyn-sama," said the small white fox. "I was going to look in on Sinopa Crevan. There has been a great upset on Earth, and I've been watching over her out of fear."

Sigyn nodded. "I know your fondness for the young three-tail. However, I do not sense any grief or loss needing to be endured in your immediate future."

Tamamo relaxed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Tamamo."

Tamamo's ears perked somewhat. "Who is ... Taw-ve?" asked the little white fox spirit, pronouncing the name she'd overheard. "Are you answering prayers?"

Sigyn smiled "I am. I am reaching out to those in need. At this time, I've chosen to reach out to the human supernatural community, during their time of mourning."

"Barely any survived," said Tamamo in a soft voice. "I grieve for them."

"As do I, Tamamo. Many of the gods mourn the supernatural community of Earth." Sigyn licked her lips and sighed. "To answer your question - Tove is a werewolf in Iceland. She made an offering in return for me to look over her sister."

Tamamo tilted her head. "Has the sister been injured during the attacks?"

"No, little one. The surviving werewolf tribes are the lucky few who cut ties with the supernatural community many years ago. Tove and her people do not yet know an attack took place."

Tamamo's left ear flickered listlessly.

Sigyn sighed. "I wished to indulge in prayers that did not remind me of so many deaths."

Tamamo's ears perked up. "I can appreciate that, Sigyn-sama. Dare I ask what this werewolf requested?"

"Tove's sister, Úlfey, is engaged to a man as part of an arranged marriage. The National that this tribe belongs to has a tradition of arranging marriages during the first year of their child's life..."

Tamamo tilted her head, listening to Sigyn speak.

"...However, Úlfey's betrothed is incapable of reciprocating romantic affections, though it is by no fault of either."

"He's not capable of loving her physically? Why would he reject her?"

Sigyn frowned. "It is because Erik's heart yearns for the love of a man."

Tamamo nodded in understanding. "Humans are slowly embracing acceptance of same-sex romance. I have always found it fascinating to watch humanity's emotional evolution as a race."

"Ja, I have noticed the stark changes over the past century."

Tamamo nodded. She lifted her gaze, briefly gazing upon Sigyn's figure. "What is your personal outlook on same-sex relations?"

Sigyn arched her brows. "I am pleased to be faithful to my husband, tusen takk!"

Tamamo lowered her gaze. Her tone became soft and apologetic. "I did not mean my words to sound suggestive."

Sigyn continued in a calm, clear tone. "However!" She met Tamamo's gaze. "I do not begrudge love in any form, so long as there is loyalty between mates."

"So you will bless Tove's sister to be loyal to her arranged husband?"

Sigyn sighed with a nod. "Úlfey will never consummate with her fiancée. Erik is unwilling or unable to copulate with a female, as there is no attraction. Romance blooms in his heart for another man."

"That is so sad," Tamamo whispered. "I mean ... it is sad that their arranged marriage is a star-crossed union."

Sigyn offered a wan smile. "Úlfey's sister has made a very personal offer in return for my assistance. Her offering has placated my heart." Sigyn's smile broadened. "I will ensure that Tove's sister remains loyal to Eric, the betrothed."

Tamamo looked up at Sigyn. "I have a question."

"Ask."

The vixen settled on her haunches, sitting prim and proper. "Do I have love in my future?"

Sigyn tilted her head. "Forgive me if I am mistaken, Tamamo, however I was under the impression you are honor-bound to serve a Shinto god of fertility and agriculture. Have you asked the god you serve if there is a child and a garden in your future?"

Tamamo looked down again. "I miss Konoe-tenno. dI find it difficult to move on."

Sigyn tilted her head.

Tamamo added, "I have had occasional unfulfilling nights of passion. My physical pursuits are for the sake of lust, and I feel empty and unsatisfied afterwards." Her golden gaze glistened with sadness. "It is because Konoe still consumes my heart."

"It has been many years since you have seen your beloved child emperor, hasn't it, Tamamo?"

"Hai, Sigyn-sama. It has been _eight hundred and sixty-eight_Earth revolutions since my love has passed away. I pine for love; I worry I will never experience it again."

Sigyn leaned over and kissed Tamamo's white-furred head, between the vixen's ears. "You will find love again. One day in the future, he will reach out to you. Treat it with the respect it deserves."

The vixen bit her lip and replied with a reverent nod.

"For now, look after Sinopa. Keep her safe."

Tamamo sighed. "She is sometimes errant..."

"Sinopa has an important future."

"And I do not?" asked Tamamo.

Sigyn smiled and stood up. "My dear, you both do. Now, watch over Sinopa."

"What of my future love?"

"Like Úlfey, in Iceland, you have love and happiness in your future," Sigyn said. "However, it will not be perfect. You will have to endure these imperfections."

"True love sets the heart free and can lift you up and restore you."

Sigyn nodded in agreement. "Ja. However, sometimes, true love can become the ward of the heart. When the heart wants what it cannot have, the body and mind are challenged to endure."

Tamamo bit her lower lip. "Like when you love someone deeply, but you know they are happier with another, so you let them go to that other, because you would rather they be happy."

"You're speaking of Shizuko's parents?"

"I am." Tamamo swallowed down a pit of emotion stewing in her heart. "Though I did not feel about them the way I felt about Konoe."

"I understand."

Tamamo's tongue slid across her muzzle from right to left, and then back. "You were speaking from experience - enduring what the heart cannot have. It is moving."

"Ja. I wish to have my son's life restored, I wish for the freedom of my husband so I can feel his warmth against my body at night, in my bed. My heart must endure without them."

"Then I weep for us both, Sigyn-sama. You are too kind and gracious of a woman to live your life without what your heart desires. If it were me, I would be consumed with vengeance. I would not stop until those responsible were properly punished."

Sigyn ran her fingers back through Tamamo's head-fur. "Shh."

Tamamo's lower lip trembled. Her nose became overly moist, and she licked her lips several more times. The frustrated fox huffed with dissatisfaction."

"Tamamo, shh. Be calm. There will be a great love in your future. And, according to the lore, I will spend at least one night with my husband besides me in my bed before the world ends."

"Arigato, Sigyn-sama. Your patience is heart-warming."

Sigyn nodded. "I wish to attend to my husband in the hot springs. I need to empty the bowl of venom above his head."

Tamamo bit her lower lip.

"Just remember, Tamamo, if I can endure a difficult romance, so can you. Keep your back straight, and carry yourself with a dignity that all women should embrace in their hearts."

Tamamo nodded. "Very well. I will keep my chin high, Sigyn-sama."

Sigyn nodded. "I am headed to visit my husband. When I return, I have more prayers of the Ásatrú to hear. Be well, Mizukume."

Tamamo grimaced.

"Why do you have such a pained expression?"

"I have little love for your husband."

"Why would you say such a thing to me?"

Tamamo drew in a deep breath and sighed through her little black nose. Her ears laid flat. "Your husband arranged for Sinopa's cancer in 2014."

Sigyn's eyes widened.

"Sinopa's husband, Jonathan, believes that she died from it. It became her cover to return to the Celestial Realm in order to participate in the Celestial Civil War, nine Earth revolutions ago."

Sigyn pursed her lips together. "I will confirm such a claim."

"I would expect no less, Sigyn-sama."

The goddesses nodded to Tamamo and left the Hallway of Reflection.

Tamamo turned to one of the portals and gazed through. She sighed.

Silence.

Tamamo cut her eyes to the left and watched Sigyn leave the hallway.

The little white-furred vixen knew she had to follow and spy, just as Nathan had asked, earlier.

Silence.

The little white vixen whispered to herself. "Hi, fu, mi, yo, itsu, mu, nana, ya, kokono, towo..."

After ten seconds, Tamamo turned to follow, remaining far enough back that Sigyn wouldn't see.

Tamamo's thoughts raced. She recalled what Nathanial said about the involvement of Peri Lynn's brother, Rufus Darken.

She recalled the female werewolf with a fond sigh.

The young woman's death was tragic. Nathan was correct - Peri Lynn wasn't ready for the duty bestowed upon her in 1999. Tamamo felt responsible for the werewolf's death.

Tamamo sighed. She wondered how Rufus Darken would be involved in the events ahead. For now, she followed Sigyn to the Hot Springs grove - the prison of Loki Laufeyjarson.

X

X

3:15 am local time Reykholt, Borgarbyggd, Iceland ...

Sire St. Reinhardt crossed his arms over his chest. The Englishman had a hint of Asian features, mostly his eyes. His jawline, his cheeks, and his hairline spoke of his strong Anglo Saxon heritage.

Sire glanced back at a generator powering flood lights. His gaze shifted forward to a large, broad-shouldered Indigenous Australian. The hulking man's dark skin glistened with sweat, despite the mild outdoor temperature.

"So, you speak Japanese?" The voice came from behind Sire. He turned to face a white man with long dark hair in faded blue jeans and a flannel t-shirt.

Sire tilted his head. "Rufus, what makes you think I speak Japanese?"

"Earlier this afternoon, you was speakin' with Yuki Sato in Japanese. I see you got a little bit of Asian around the eyes. Japan's a beautiful country, ever been?"

Sire grimaced. "Rufus, you do know that Yuki was born here, in Iceland, right? His father, Yamato, moved here to study the Aurora Borealis, fell in love with Iceland, and stayed. Yuki's mother is a white woman from Reykjavík."

Rue grinned. "You two was speakin' Japanese, boss. Plus, yer eyes."

Sire unfolded his arms. "Rufus, have you ever heard of a man named Petru Vykos?"

Rue tilted his head. "Sounds familiar, but ... if I know it, I ain't heard it in a long damn time."

"He and his wife, Antanasia, were the most important people in the Esoteric Community up until Petru's death in the early 1900's. He could manipulate bone and the way flesh laid over it. Petru changed the appearance of immortal human beings over the ages."

Rufus quirked his brows.

"He did this so that those of us who were cursed with immortality could reinvent ourselves every few decades in order to hide in plain sight."

"So this Petru guy made you look like ya do now?"

Sire's posture relaxed. "Not exactly. The body has a way of healing itself." The bite faded from his tone. "My appearance is due to the fact that Petru has not been alive to repair my appearance for a century. Think of him as a plastic surgeon without tools. I likely need touching up to repair the work he did to me in the late 1880s."

Rue eyed Sire. "Wouldn't work on me."

"Why, because you're a werewolf in your other form?"

"Ayup. Each transition from human to wolf 'n back resets our body to the way it was."

"Petru could rearrange or mold your teeth to have a completely different bite, Rufus."

Rue shrugged. "When I 'go wolf' mah jaw gets longer. New teeth grow into the new gaps of space. When I change back, they fall out cause there ain't no room. New ones grow into their place. It's painful, but I ain't ever gotta worry about a visit to the dentist, heh."

Silence.

After a moment, Rufus shrugged. "A'ite, boss. So let me ask you something else." Rue brought a bottle of water to his lips. He capped it, put the bottle into his back pocket and pushed his long dark hair away from his cheeks. His face was moist with sweat from digging with a shovel for the past few hours.

"Rufus, we're here in the middle of the night because I have reason to believe we're digging up an ancient Norse artifact. I need to see it and document it before it winds up in the hands of a university."

"Ah. Reckon it's easier to find it, get the information you need from it, and then donate it." Rue grinned. "At least, easier than trying to steal it."

"Something like that, Rufus."

"If ya don't mind me askin' - why?"

"There is said to be a hint somewhere in the writing that will tell us where a piece of old technology is buried. It's something I need to acquire."

"A'right, well, there's something else I've been meaning to ask you, boss."

"Rufus, I'm done answering questions about what we're doing here. Just pick up your shovel and help your Australian friend find what I'm looking for before the sun comes up."

Rufus blinked. "Actually, I was going to ask you why you sought me out in 1999. I mean, don't get me wrong, boss - I'm glad you came all the way to Australia to find me, but why?"

Sire pursed his lips with a scowl. He took a deep breath. "Peri Lynn was doing what you're doing now, Rufus. She died helping my brother and I."

"Doing what?"

"She helped us to locate the artifacts we need. She felt it was the most important thing she'd ever accomplished in her life and, on her deathbed, she asked for us to seek you out and involve you."

Rufus grew silent, expressionless.

Sire smirked. In a syrupy sweet voice, almost melodic in nature, he said, "Break time is over. Go and help your black friend dig up this artifact, so we can leave Iceland by sunup."

Rue turned away from Sire without a word. He grabbed a shovel and slid into a seven-foot hole. His head began to clear, once he was away from Sire.

The dark-skinned Australian smiled. His brilliant white teeth shined in the lighting of the flood lamps. "That codger use his power to make you stop asking questions, mate? That gubba is fixed on the mish. You won't get any answers out of that dodgy whitefella."

Rue stared down at a half-uncovered chest in the dirt. He didn't like when people took advantage of him. In order to change the focus away from how he was manipulated, he pointed at the container in the dirt. "What'cha got there?"

"What does it look like, Rue? It's what we came for, mate."

"Collobulous Bullakulla, you must be gettin' old, brother. I seen you pick up dumpsters with one hand, and you cain't yank that-there box out the ground?"

"Oi, mate, you forget the average skip is made outta metal. This box is right fragile, mate. Less yabbering and more yakka. Help me dig it out."

"Yeah, Bull, I'm just jiving ya, brother."

"Feel free to gammon on all you like after this business is done. I'm not tryin' to be out here, shoveling, until this arvo. Let's get it done."

"A'ite, Bull. I'll start on this side. You start on that side. We'll dig at the corners, get it unstuck, then yank this damn thing outta the ground, a'ite?"

"Bang on, mate. I wanna get this done and blow through here before sun up. We're not supposed to be out here with shovels. We could be arrested because of one of Sire's clangers. This entire mess is a cock up if you ask me."

"Let's just get it done, then, brother."

"Right."

Rufus grinned at his friend's method of speaking.

Bull saw the expression an tilted his head in confusion. "What?"

"Just that diphthong, Bull."

Bull repeated himself for Rue's amusement. "Riiiiight." The word came out sounding like, 'roight.'

They used their shovels and wedged the box free of the dirt.

Bull reached his hands down, on either side of it, and lifted the box from the ground, careful not to break it. He hoisted it up from the hole with a soft grunt. "Cooee! Oi, come see, boss!"

Sire approached the box in front of the hole. "Outstanding work, gentlemen." He opened the lid and withdrew an ancient tome with writing on it.

Rufus climbed from the hole and stretched.

Sire turned away from Rue and Bull, studying the ancient book.

Rue glanced over Sire's shoulder, noting the strange lettering. "What's with the little vertical fish, pitch forks, and weird icons?"

"It's a runic alphabet. It's Anglo-Saxonica..."

"Is that how ancient Icelandic types wrote?"

"Rufus, stop. It's how things were written from the second century up to the tenth century. Snorri Sturluson was born near the end of the twelfth century, so he would not necessarily have written this particular page." Sire flipped a few pages forward. "However, some of these entries are written in the Latin alphabet. It's best to let the scholars speculate on this."

Rue shrugged. "Up until I met Bull, I was illiterate."

Sire cut his gaze back at Rufus, brows arched. "You went without learning to read for a hundred fifty years?"

"Heh. Yeah, more or less. Great with numbers, though. Bull put that scholarship at Melbourne to good use when he learned me to read, I reckon."

Sire's eyes panned from Rue to the large black man climbing up out of the hole with the shovels. "Mm, and here I thought he was just the brawn. I stand corrected."

"Bull's smart as a whip," Rue said. "So what's this thing you found? I thought it were supposed ta be some sorta old technology from a long time ago?"

Sire smirked. "It has hints to where things are hidden." Sire paused to read some of the pages. "Interesting, though. It also details stories of gods that were thought to be lost forever. This page, here, is about Sigyn."

"Who?"

"The wife of Loki Laufeyjarson. She was known as a goddess of grief, mourning, enduring, loyalty, fidelity..." Sire trailed off, reading another line in the book.

"Damn," Rufus murmured. "How many languages you speak?"

"Quite a few. But most no longer matter."

"How'n the hell can a language ain't matter no more?"

"You're laying it on thick today, Rufus." Sire placed a finger on the ancient writing and looked up. "For example, I spoke Gaulish, Greenlandic Norse, and Galwegian Gaelic. I spoke true Latin, and later, I spoke Vulgar Latin. I haven't used some of these languages in so long, that I've forgotten them."

Rue grinned. "But you speak fluent Japanese."

Sire tensed up again. He turned away and started reading from the book in silence.

Rue walked back to Bull and took the tools from him. "Bossman is looking for the next job. He thinks Vikings obtained ancient supernatural artifacts at some point, but they didn't know what to do with them, so they hid them."

Collobulous looked over Rufus and tilted his head.

Rue grinned. "Werewolf hearin', Bull. He was talkin' to some Government stiff about this crap on his cell a few hours ago. I overheard."

"Why are they searching for these artifacts, Rue?"

Rufus shrugged. "Sire and his buddies are lookin' for some sort of 'Ultimate Thule' that was once inhabited by immortals." A grin tugged at Rue's face. "Basically, they wanna find a town that's older than I am."

"You saying Thule's before yer time, mate? And here I thought you were supposed to be bloody old."

"You smart ass." Rue grinned and playfully punched Bull in the shoulder.

Collobulous' sweaty ebon shoulder was akin to punching a brick wall.

Rufus opened and closed his hand several times. His grin broadened. "_Damn_you're solid as hell."

Collobulous returned the grin. He walked past Rufus and approached Sire. "Oi, boss. I been meaning to dispel a furphy, if you got a sec."

Sire looked up. His eyes lowered and then lifted, as if sizing up the large Australian man. Sire sighed through his nose. "What is it?"

"I heard some serious business, and this job's been a cock up. I need to know if our mob is in it deep, or if I heard a yarn."

Sire's gaze flitted to Rufus. "You want to translate?"

Rue shrugged. "He heard a rumor and wanted to know if supernatural people are in trouble, or if it's all a bunch'a shit."

Sire glanced back at Collobulous. "Couldn't just say it like that, hmm?"

Bull crossed his arms across his chest. After digging for the last several hours, his arms were well defined and larger than usual. "Is it true?"

"Yes." Sire nodded with a frown. "There were attacks against people with supernatural abilities. The attacks didn't happen here, in Iceland. It was spared."

Bull studied Sire's face. "Because there are so few supernatural people here?"

"Because the supernatural community's greatest downfall was their basic human needs - the desire to be with like-people. Less than a quarter of one percent of Specials live away from others with abilities."

Rufus shook his head with a sigh. "That made the hunters' job easier."

Sire nodded. "The Icelandic werewolf tribes, all three of them, broke ties with the Esoteric Council a number of years ago. They protect themselves."

Bull eyed Sire suspiciously. "Why did we survive?"

"Because I avoided the attacks, Collobulous. You two are very helpful to me, and you don't break the rules of the community." Sire withdrew a pack of clove cigarettes and lit one. "We laid low and searched for this codex while waiting out the storm."

Rue grimaced. "You knew it was happening?"

"My contact in the American Government heard some channel chatter and suggested I stay somewhere safe. So we came here." Sire inhaled. He pinched the clove cigarette between his index and thumb and sighed. "The attacks occurred rapidly, but the council hasn't assessed the damage to the community yet. In fact, I haven't heard from anyone else in the community since August twenty-ninth."

"Someone's trying to wipe out our kind?" Rue asked with a frown. "For serious, now?"

"Yes, Rufus. But there's nothing we can do about it for the time being. Now, if you'll excuse me." Sire's eyes lowered to the codex in his free hand. "This is an interesting addition to the story of Sigyn." He inhaled deeply from the clove cigarette again. "I know I said I was going to quit."

Bull frowned. "You have a lot on your shoulders, apparently."

"Yes. I do. Thank you for understanding. Still, it's irresponsible of me to contaminate an ancient artifact like this." He pulled from the cigarette again, dropped it, and stepped on the remains. "Twenty-five years ago, I smoked three packs a day. I'm down to less than a pack per week."

Rufus shook his head and walked away. He carried the shovels back to the truck and started putting things away.

Sire watched Rufus leave. "What's wrong with him?"

"Let'em choof off. He don't like when people suddenly change the topic from genocide to cigarettes. It's some serious business, especially when some gubba Special knew about it and could've stopped it from happening."

"I don't like your accusatory tone." Sire glanced down at the pages of the ancient book. "I lost a lot of friends. When you've been alive as long as I have, friends are all you have in this world. It doesn't matter if you're rich, or if you're down to your last zack."

"Australia ditched the sixpence zack a long time ago."

"But you knew what I meant." Sire lowered his gaze to the book again.

Collobulous approached Sire. In a soft voice, he asked, "Koori ain't as stupid as you must think, Mr. St. Leonard."

"Why don't you trust me? I kept both of you alive, Collobulous."

"I'm not trying to bail up on you." Bull lifted his hands, palms up, to show he wasn't a threat. "I'm not here for a bloody barney, mate. I know better than to tussle with a Justiciar."

"We've worked together for a while now. But I feel like the two of you no longer trust me. I know I keep secrets, but as a member of the Esoteric Council, it's my responsibility to safeguard certain secrets."

"Maybe if you tell me what've you found, I can explain it to Rufus. Trust is everything, mate. You only have to tell us enough to accept it's worth risking our lives for. That's a right proper compromise, yeah?"

Sire nodded. He flipped a page in the book and found a spot half-way down the page. "Sigyn is supposed to be the staying-power goddess of steadfastness. But this is a newer story about her. It claims she becomes the embodiment of a woman's scorn. Odin took her children, transformed one son, and used him to kill the other."

"Oi, I'd be right berko on the bloke that did that to me family. Goddess or not, this Sheila got every right to be scorned."

Sire nodded again. "Berko? Is that like berserk?"

"I suppose, mate. Any'ow, go on."

"According to this new story, after a long period of time, Sigyn learns of a way that she can have one of her children back to the way he used to be."

"The one who got 'imself transformed?"

"Yes. Vali would become as he once was before the transformation." Sire's index finger trailed down the wording. "It claims that a woman will go to the ends of the Earth for her children, and move mountains for her husband."

"Sounds like a proper Sheila."

"The problem is, rage and vengeance is completely out of character for her," said Sire. "She's supposed to be the wife that knows her place and whose willpower cannot be broken. She forever grieves. She inspires fidelity, patience, loyalty, and endurance."

"This bloody codger, Odin, went after her husband and both her sons, mate. I know this'a yarn, but an angry woman is nothing to mess with."

"She's a mythological character, Collobulous. She isn't supposed to become angry. She's worshipped for not becoming vengeful."

"I seen a woman so irate, she stood up to Gypsy Jokers, Coffin Cheaters, and these blokes backed down. Ain't a man alive that wants to deal with a psycho sister."

Sire looked down at the pages. "I have no idea what you just said, but apparently Sigyn is supposed to become obsessed with restoring Vali and aiding her husband."

"I said I seen a sister stand up to motorcycle gangs. She had a look in 'er eyes, mate. These biker gangs stepped aside rather than tangle with her. You don't mess with a crazy chick."

"Collobulous, I'm worried this story might be a fake. If it's fake, then it won't help us find what I'm looking for. If it's real, then the gods become vengeful."

"What happens to her inna story we found?"

Sire glanced down at the pages again. He skimmed over the words and frowned. "It claims all she has endured will eventually lead to unleashing a woman's true scorn."

Collobulous remained quiet.

Sire looked up from the ancient collection of writings. "To free her husband and rescue her surviving child, she'll become focused to the point of obsession."

"Oi, the way I see it, her loyalty to her family is admirable."

"This story suggests she would be willing to do whatever is necessary to repair her family."

Bull shrugged. "You say it like that's a bad thing. If you ask me, that's a bang on job for a wife 'n mother. Like I said, I seen a woman scorned. I say more power to'er."

"Apparently you've never seen a scorned woman who is also motivated by obsession, Mr. Bullakulla."

Collobulous studied Sire's face, confused as to why Sire addressed him with his surname. "This truly upsets you? It's just a dumb old book, mate. Your heart rate's up, your palms're sweaty. Your pupils are..."

Sire turned away. "Stupid nosey Abbo, mind your own business."

Collobulous grimaced at the racial slur. "When you first told Rufus that his sister died, he bottled it. He shut down. It ate'em up inside. He got skickered as shit."

"What's your point?"

"I could handle me'self against a pissed werewolf; I can handle you."

"Of course you could - your strength makes you useful. Again, what's your point?"

Collobulous sighed. "You're upset by whatcha read, yeah?"

Sire narrowed his eyes. "Is it that obvious?" he said in a sarcastic tone.

"I meant that you shouldn't bottle up whatever y'read. Don't be like Rufus. Talk to someone, yeah?"

"You're usually not this talkative."

"Am when I need to be."

"Fine." Sire closed the book and put it under his left arm. "A very powerful oracle once said my life would end at the hands of a scorned woman, motivated by her passions and rage."

"Oi, is that all?" Collobulous shook his head. "This story 'bout a make-believe goddess reminds you that you'll die one day in the future?"

"Let me educate you, since they don't teach Esoteric Council politics in Melbourne community colleges."

Bull scrunched his brows.

Sire pinched his lips together and sighed through his nose. After a moment to compose himself, he said, "Do you know about the treaty of the supernatural?"

Collobulous shook his head.

"Well, here's something for you to consider - the gods are real. All of them. Every damned one. Some say they came before humans, a few have posited that humanity created the deities."

"Chicken or the egg, I get it."

Sire shifted the book to his left hand and used his right to pat down his pockets. "Only the gods know for sure. Follow me so far?" He found his clove cigarettes and pulled one from his pocket.

Bull shook his head, incredulous, on the verge of amused. "You're worried the wife of Loki will be the woman who kills you?"

"Yes. Based on the words used by the oracle, they are nearly the same words used in this book."

"I spoke to Uluru in my Dreaming. More than once, mate. _That's_real. So, forgive me if I do not believe in the Norse gods."

"They're all real, Mr. Bullakulla. Furthermore, the supernatural community has been around for a very long time. Many gods are known to cause wars, plagues, droughts ... whatever they can do to bring about worship by fear. The supernatural community is the last line of defense to keep these overpowered beings off our world."

"I've never heard..."

"It's been a secret for thousands of years!" Sire erupted.

Rufus, up by the truck, looked back at Sire and Collobulous. He started walking back towards the two.

Sire grimaced. In a soft voice, he told Collobulous, "Tens of thousands of supernaturals disappeared. I brought the two of you to Iceland to hide until it stopped. There may only be a handful of us left to uphold the treaty. The gods are overpowered and dangerous. They would turn Earth into a battleground, using humans as their army of pawns in an attempt to 'conquer and convert.'"

"What's your plan, mate?"

"We find the artifacts. The immortals, like Steven Milford, and Methos, for example, once used technology to keep the gods under control. If we can locate it, we can protect ourselves."

"So ... that's what all this fuss is about."

"We have no other options now that our numbers are nearly non-existent. I am under an enormous amount of stress, Mr. Bullakulla." Sire brought the cigarette to his lips. "Most know me as confident, cocky, and calculating. But my power of persuasion does not work on deities." Sire lit the clove and inhaled.

"Then why keep us together?"

"You and him?" Sire asked, side-nodding towards the approaching Georgian. "Why would I separate you from Rufus?"

"So we can find more artifacts in half the time."

Sire rubbed his chin with his free hand. He shifted the book under his left arm and continued pacing in silence.

"We can be in more places at once. What, you don't think we're bloody capable?"

"I may separate you depending on the job," Sire said. He took another puff on the clove. "But right now I need the two of you to stay together."

"Oh?"

Sire nodded. "I have another task for the both of you. I'm flying you to Miami, Florida. It's in the southeastern-most point of the United States. I hope you can handle humidity."

"I've lived in the United States as a child. It was right humid there."

"Oklahoma - I read your file. You left when you were six. I doubt you'd remember. Either way, Florida is far more humid."

Bull rolled his eyes. "Oi, did ya know it's about eighty percent relative humidity here, right now, in bloody Iceland? I just dug a bloody hole for the past several hours. I think I've proven I can handle a bit of sweat, mate."

Rufus approached the two.

Sire smirked at Collobulous. "Eighty percent relative humidity? It's fifty-three degrees here. It's a hundred in Florida. That's American Fahrenheit, which is what they use there."

Bull shrugged. "So?"

"Do you even understand the massive difference between Iceland and Florida?"

Collobulous held his hand up to keep Rufus from joining in the conversation. "Listen, boss, I've lived in Melbourne; I've lived in Brisbane. I even circumambulated the bloody continent with Rufus from Darwin back to Melbourne. We left the hottest part of the country during the hottest part of the year, mate."

Sire pursed his lips together.

Collobulous added, "I even know the bloody difference between the dew point, saturation, absolute humanity and relative humidity. So, if you still_think I'm just some _Stupid Abbo..."

Sire held his hands up. "You asked why this book bothers me, I told you, and you replied with sheer ignorance."

"Enough!" Rufus exclaimed.

Sire narrowed his eyes. "I took a chance with the two of you. You're hard workers, fine. But that's all you are - laborers."

Rufus tried to raise his voice, but couldn't because of the defensive ability exuded by Sire. It kept Sire safe from attacks, mental or physical. "Boss, what's going on? Why're you acting like this? We found the damn book. I thought you'd be happy."

Sire sighed. "We're an endangered species, now. I suppose I'm under a lot of stress."

Collobulous turned to Rue. "He thinks the wife of Loki gonna hunt him down. He read about this girl and freaked. He called me a nosey stupid Abbo."

Sire pursed his lips and ground his molars together.

Rue narrowed his gaze and turned towards Sire.

Collobulous held his hand up to stop Rufus from saying anything. "No worries, brudda." Bull turned to Sire and said, "This is the first time I heard you use a racist remark, mate. So let's chalk it up to stress and drop it. I'm not a violent type, and I don't hold grudges over shamejob yabba from some whitefella gubba, 'specially one whose brother is the head of the gunjies. If our mob is really in a bit of sorry business, then you're right - we're in this together, mate." Collobulous held his large hand towards Sire.

Sire's gaze lowered. He stared at the large dark-skinned hand. By contrast to his wrist and the top of his hand, Collobulous' palm was rather light in color. Sire looked back up at Bull's face.

The two shook.

A wry grin tugged at the corner of Rue's face. "You two handled that right gentlemanly."

Sire released the handshake. "I need to find Yuki Sato. He's a professor of Archaeology. I'm presenting the book to the local media. The two of you are going to be flying to Florida."

Rue frowned. "What if this Sato fella shares his find with others?"

Sire smirked. "I'm counting on it, Rufus. I helped him arrange contacts in Oslo, Berlin, Paris, and Helsinki. It will help me determine what I need to learn about the locations of the artifacts that were once obtained by Viking raiders. In exchange, I'm giving scholars and the Northern Pagan community more information about their precious Rokkr gods."

Rue and Collobulous exchanged glances.

Bull shrugged. "Why else would he give it to the media, brudda. It's safer in a spotlight."

"Exactly," Sire said.

"I'm not such a stupid Abbo, now, am I?"

"I was out of line."

"True." Bull waved his hand in a circular motion. "Back on topic, mate."

Sire nodded. "This collection of stories is quite extensive. It will benefit us to research what I need from the findings of the experts."

Rue glanced back at the large dirt in the hole, several feet away. "And now? Are you done using us?"

"Leave the hole as it is, Rufus."

"Fair enough. What happens next?"

"You really don't trust me anymore, do you?"

"So long as you don't use your power to order us to climb in that grave we just dug."

Sire scoffed. "Return the rental car and catch your morning flight to Miami. I'll take the equipment truck and the book." Sire reached into his jacket. He handed over a small folder with two plane tickets. "Do you have your passports on you?"

Rufus' posture relaxed. "Yeah."

"Good. Head back to the hotel, gather your things, and head to the airport."

Rufus felt relieved. "Sorry I didn't trust you. Good workin' with you, boss. We'll catch up after our assignment in Miami. Any idea what we're looking for there?"

"A sailor under Ponce De León was a Special," said Sire. "He sought to hide an artifact when they reached the shores of Florida, somewhere between south Jacksonville Beach and Melbourne." Sire's eyes cut to Bull, adding, "Not _your_Melbourne - the one in Florida."

Bull rolled his eyes. "Again, I'm not a 'Stupid Abbo,' mate."

Sire sighed. "I'll never live that down, will I?"

"Not tonight, at least."

Rufus put a hand on Bull's wrist to calm his friend. Rue kept his eyes on Sire. "You were saying something about the first landfall in America."

With a nod, Sire said, "The problem is, historians are unsure exactly where the ships made landfall. Therefore, you have a lot of shoreline to cover. Instructions are included with your travel itinerary."

Rufus and Sire shook hands. "I'll let'cha know when we found the Fountain of Youth."

Sire scoffed. "I suspect Ponce De León made a mistake between the word for 'vine' and 'life.' Good luck, both of you. This will be the last time we see each other for a while. Lay low until we can be sure these attacks have concluded."

Bull and Rufus exchanged glances again.

Sire turned for the equipment truck. "Rufus, ask your friend to fill you in on the conversation we had. He can explain things to you on the way to the airport." Sire climbed into the work truck, turned on the engine and drove away.

Collobulous waved to the departing truck, "Hooroo to you, ya' loon."

Rue turned to Collobulous. "He talked about it, huh?"

Bull nodded. "The clucky codger was quick to blow through, wasn't he?"

"It's been a while since I've been to Florida. When we get there, we should have a few beers and grill some shrimp."

"Prawns," Collobulous corrected.

"Fine, we'll grill some prawns ... actually, I just watched some 'prawn_'_with a cute girl at the motel last night."

Bull smirked and snatched the plane tickets from Rufus' hand. "Was her name Barbie?" He walked to the rental car, opened the door and dropped into the driver's seat. "C'mon, then, mate."

Rufus climbed into the passenger seat. "I've never traveled so much in my life, brother. Sire is a dick, sure as shit, but I love seein' the world on his dime."

"You like meeting women."

"I cain't deny that. From Masadea to Mogadishu; from Moscow to Miami, it's been one hell of a ride."

"Nice alliteration."

"Maybe if the Beach Boys met some more international beach bunnies, they wouldn't have written California Girls. Heh."

"Do you reckon, bruddah?"

Rue grinned and adjusted his seat. "Hell yeah, I reckon."

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